The Gentleman Balloonist
by Burp
Summary: An account of Brady's absence and return, happily lacking teenaged angst and unhealthy obsessions perpetrated by the author of Twilight. Pair of Kings is a comedy yo.


Burp here to supplement the very sad selection of Pair of Kings fanfiction. Thought I'd write an account of Brady's absence that made sense and wasn't consumed by teenaged angst and unhealthy obessions. Stephenie Meyers is such a bad influence. Anyway, here ya go! First chapter, underway!

* * *

"Come on, Mahumma, we need to leave now!" Brady shouted over the wind. Mahumma ran toward Brady, who was in the balloon already, and hopped in with his machete and a small carpetbag, which Brady, in his anxiety, didn't notice. He swiped at the land lines with his machete and they were off.

"Are you sure about this, my king?" Mahumma asked, eyeing the horizon warily. It was only breezy now, but he thought it might storm later on.

"Absolutely." The next hours passed in silence. Mahumma piloted, and Brady sat on the basket floor and thought harder than he was accustomed to thinking. Mahumma thought too. He thought about the note he'd left on Mason's desk. The note that said he was resigning from the guard to watch over King Brady while he was on the mainland. He knew that Brady had given up his kingship, but to Mahumma, he was still a king. He glanced over at the young king. Such a look of concentration on a face so unused to that expression. Mahumma chuckled. Maybe this trip to the mainland would really be worthwhile after all. Maybe he did need to get away from the island and his brother to grow up a little.

Many hours after Mahumma and Brady had left the island of Kincow, they arrived in Chicago. The manner in which they arrive, however, was not the one in which they expected to arrive. The balloon's fabric had finally torn over the windy city, and the already bedraggled pair had dropped at an alarming speed, and unfortunately also shredded the basket when they landed on it. The storm Mahumma had feared had passed over them and pursued them for the last few hours of their trip. They had been lucky to get so far. Brady stumbled out of the basket and onto someone's lawn with sopping wet hair and a torn shirt. He weaved like a drunkard for a few moments before rediscovering his land legs.

"Whoa," he stated breathlessly. Mahumma crawled out of the wreckage combat style, and carried his machete with his teeth. He got up and saw Brady and let out a sigh of relief. He resheathed his weapon and surveyed the damage. He hauled their baggage out and handed them to Brady.

"My king, please carry these. I must tend the balloon." Brady took the two bags, and for once didn't complain. Mahumma folded the balloon's fabric until it was relatively small, and grabbed an edge of the basket, which was large, but not terribly heavy for him. "My king, lead the way." Brady started.

"Oh yeah, right. Uh . . . " he looked around for a landmark. He was actually pretty good finding his way, although you wouldn't be able to tell from the way he acted on Kincow. The view walking behind Mikayla was too good to pass up, so he rarely turned down an opportunity. He saw what he was looking for. "There's the Church and the library, so the house is . . . this way." The two of them walked for about thirty minutes before reaching Brady's childhood home. Mahumma set the remains of the balloon down in the yard as Brady walked up the steps and knocked. The door opened, and Brady saw his Aunt Nancy for the second time in the last three years. She did a double take, seeing Brady on her doorstep, and Mahumma in his guard clothes in the yard.

"Brady?! What are you doing here?" she practically screamed. She hugged him fiercely and Brady grinned.

"It's good to see you too Aunt Nancy." Mahumma stepped up beside him on the stoop. "Hey Aunt Nancy, can Mahumma stay for a while? Our balloon kind of got shredded." Nancy let go of her nephew and looked up at the guard.

"O-of course he can. He probably needed to stay and guard you anyway, didn't he?" Brady shuffled inside.

"Not anymore. I resigned. Boom is king now. I don't need a guard anymore." Nancy goggled at him, slowly following him into the kitchen.

"What do you mean, Boomer is in charge now? You left him in charge? That boy still wets his bed as far as I know! Brady what are you thinking?"

"It's not like that Aunt Nancy, Boomer is the better king. All I do is mess things up." He idly opened the fridge to scrounge for leftovers, and came up with some cold pizza. Mahumma snorted softly in the other room as he listened. As far as he was concerned those kings were both menaces.

"I don't believe what I am hearing Brady," Aunt Nancy started in again, "you'll be lucky if that island is still in one piece when you get back."

"I'm not going back, Aunt Nancy. At least not for a long time." Brady said quietly. "I have to grow up. I'm gonna go to school and learn to be useful before I go back. I may never be a king again, but I'm going to be an asset to my brother when I go back, or I'm not going back at all." Aunt Nancy studied him.

"All right, Brady. I can see you're serious about this, and I think it's very noble of you, so go on upstairs and get cleaned up for dinner." She glanced over at the living room. "And make sure your friend does too. Give him some of Uncle Bill's clothes to wear, will you? He's gonna get frostbite in that outfit. Chicago ain't no tropical island."

"Okay, Aunt Nancy." He walked to the living room. "Mahumma, come on, you can sleep in Boomer's room."

"Um, actually Honey, Uncle Bill may have turned Boomer's room into a man room . . ."

"What? Ah man, my room is tiny, and Mahumma is a big guy, if you hadn't noticed."

"Maybe he could sleep on the couch?"

"Come on Aunt Nancy, Uncle Bill will bug him to death. He sits there and watches TV until ten, then he comes down to get a midnight snack, and then he's out here eating breakfast at five in the morning. And you know what it's like trying to sleep through Uncle Bill. He'll never get any." Mahumma walked into the kitchen.

"I will sleep on the floor in King Brady's room. It will be easier to guard him." He offered. Brady gave him a strange look.

"Mahumma, I'm not a king anymore. You don't have to guard me."

"Whether you want to be or not, you are a king of legend. Even if you think not, your enemies may not be so quick to believe you, and as brother to King Boomer, you are valuable for leverage against Kincow. You need to be guarded."

"But what about the guard? Won't they be expecting you to return?" Mahumma shook his head once.

"I resigned as soon as you told me your plan. I knew you would need me. I left a note on Mason's desk. He will understand." Brady was taken aback.

"So you never planned to go back without me?"

"No my king." Brady nodded and led the way upstairs.

"Come on Mahumma. I'll show you the room."

Brady's next few weeks were spent studying like he had never done before for his GED. Everyone was amazed when he passed. It was truly wonderful what determination could do. Even Brady was surprised that he could actually learn all of this stuff he'd thought was hopeless during high school. He spent the next months applying to universities. Brady was determined to get an education. Now that he knew that school was possible for him, he was excited to get started. When he wasn't applying to schools, he helped Mahumma reweave the basket to the balloon. It was tedious work, but he found that he actually enjoyed it. He also got to know Mahumma better. Mahumma was not very verbal, but he never ignored a direct question from Brady, and Brady was very good at asking direct questions.

One afternoon, after they had finished weaving the basket, and Mahumma was stitching the tear in the balloon fabric outside, Brady had an idea.

"Hey Mahumma?"

"Yes, my king?"

"Can you teach me how to fight?" Mahumma actually looked up from his work.

"It would be my pleasure, my king." He pushed the needle into the fabric and stood up. "Let's begin now." Brady looked a little alarmed.

"Like, right now? Are you sure you don't want to finish your . . . Okay." He stepped down into the yard and stood by Mahumma. "So what are we doing first?" Mahumma grinned.

"Push ups." He grabbed the back of Brady's neck and pushed him down to the grass. "Give me twenty to start out with." He watched as Brady worked. He managed about ten before he collapsed.

"Okay, I'm done" he panted. "That was twenty, right?" Mahumma smiled.

"Not even close." Brady groaned. The day went on.

In the summer, Brady received a letter from Chicago University, saying that they looked forward to his attendance at their school in the fall. He was ecstatic, and chose classes like 'Polynesian history', and 'agriculture'. Luckily the university was only a bus ride away, so he could still live at home, and didn't have to try to find a bed in the dorm for Mahumma. That would be awkward.

By the end of Summer, Brady could do nineteen push ups, as well as do several other things poorly. He was improving, so Mahumma was satisfied. He hadn't tried to train Brady to fight yet, being more concerned with getting him conditioned first. He wondered if he would be able to draw out the 'sleep ninja'. Brady obviously had the ability to fight well, or he wouldn't be able to do it in his sleep.

* * *

Dun dun dun! The end?


End file.
